


Rain and Pizza

by starlight_starbright



Series: Stucky College AU's [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: ASL, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Steve, BAMF Natasha, Breakups, Canonical Character Death, Coping, Explicit Language, Fights, Getting Back Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Music Student Bucky, Partially Deaf Clint, Partially Deaf Steve, Rain, Sign Language, Skinny Steve, Steve Drinks Too Much Coffee, Supportive Sam, Waiting For Pizza, supportive Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky broke up two months ago, but when Steve's waiting for the pizza guy, he's forced to interact with the man he's been avoiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are all based on some college AU's floating around tumblr.

Steve used to have a boyfriend. Used to have someone that he loved and cherished and needed. Someone who was very open and exaggerated on the outside but has very high walls around his heart. It took Steve nine months to break those walls down. But that relationship is two months over and it's his fault. 

Well, his friends have different opinions on that.

They say that yes, Steve had a part in it, but that Bucky couldn't handle all the things that came with dating Steve. Well, Tony hadn't said it that nicely because however shitty Tony can be at times, he’s loyal. To Steve, to Bruce, to Natasha and Sam and Thor. All of his friends had surrounded him and supported him, just like they’re doing now. It still didn’t take away the pain that came with loosing Bucky. 

A month into their relationship, Steve'd gotten pneumonia. Bucky had handled that one okay—he'd brought Steve soup and hot chocolate and had holed up in Steve's apartment to watch movies while Steve recovered. Three months in, Steve had had an asthma attack that landed him in the hospital. Bucky had panicked, but done well. He'd taken good care of Steve. 

He'd taken care of Steve while Steve'd been concerned with his Ma. His Ma hadn't been doing well. But Bucky had been there before. He'd been there to make sure Steve slept and ate and took his meds. He'd cuddled with Steve and let him cry and kissed him when Steve'd needed the closeness. Fucked him with Steve needed the intimacy. He's gone now. There's nothing Steve can do about that.

It really was a lot to ask from a person, but Bucky had been doing well. It wasn't the sickness that had scared Bucky off. He'd been very good with coping with Steve getting sick. They'd been happy. And then Steve had fucked up. Had fucked up and said 'I love you' too soon. Bucky'd gotten scared. He'd gotten scared and left and they haven't talked since.

He sees Bucky in class sometimes, but they’re big lecture halls and Steve tries to sit somewhere different every time so that Bucky can't get to him before the class ends. He knows it’s childish, but he just doesn’t want to see him. He’s afraid that if he sees those pale blue eyes, he’ll forget himself and go running back into the arms of the man who hurt him. He can't do that. Not yet. 

Steve is still friends with Clint Barton, Bucky's roommate, but they don't talk about Bucky. They talk about art and music and they speak in sign language when they don't want the others to know what they're talking about. Clint is the only other partially-deaf person in their friend group. It's nice to have him around.

Steve misses Bucky. Misses the kind, sweet, funny goofball he fell in love with because falling in love with Bucky was easy as breathing. Steve hadn't noticed for weeks. It was like second nature to love the man with dark hair and light blue eyes. And it hurts Steve to think about it. He still cried sometimes when his Ma couldn’t see. When his friends aren't around. He didn’t want them to see how bad it was. Not with his Ma doing so badly then. She hadn't needed anything else on her plate. Natasha was—is—really the only one who sees through his façade.

He and Bucky hadn't ended on good terms. The last two weeks of their relationship, Bucky had distanced himself. Had shut Steve out. Bucky hadn't come over anymore, hadn't ever texted Steve back. Steve'd seen him in class, but Bucky would only offer a fake smile, not words. When Steve had confronted him, and God Steve had confronted him, it hadn't been pretty. Steve had been sick of dancing around the subject. If Bucky was going to break up with him, he needed to get on with it. So Steve had gone to his dorm, had knocked on the door and prepared himself for a fight. Bucky answered the door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and bare-chested and looking adorably rumpled.

"H-hey, Stevie," he says, moving to let Steve into the room. Clint is sitting on the couch and signs at Steve.

_You okay?_

_No, I'm pretty sure this is ending right now_ , he signs back. Clint shakes his head sadly and get up, going into his room and closing the door.

"What's going on, Bucky? We don't talk anymore." Bucky shuts the door and takes his toothbrush out of his mouth, looking defeated.

"I just . . . I'm sorry, Steve." Steve gapes at him, the hole in his chest growing wider with every word. 

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_? Is that what this is? I've poured nine months of my life into you and you're _sorry_?" Bucky glances around the room, left hand contracting into a fist. 

"I just . . . can't anymore. It got too intense too fast and I . . ." And _God_ his eyes. Steve wants to shut up and hug him and tell him they're okay but they're not and they need to have this conversation.

"Is it because I told you I love you? Because I do. And I can't change that. We've been dating for almost ten months. It was bound to happen." Bucky just looks at him, helpless. Steve is getting angry and he can't stop the words coming out of his mouth. "I fucking love you, and you're _sorry_? You _can't_? Can't what? Love me? Be with me? Am I that fuckin’ _difficult_ to deal with? I know my health issues and my Ma are hard to deal with but . . . no. Fuck you, Bucky." It's hard to breathe. He hadn't brought his inhaler and it's pathetic that he can't even get mad without fighting for air. Bucky looks worried, concern written all over his face. Steve wants to hug him and let Bucky take care of him, but he won't. He can't take Bucky’s sympathy right now. Steve goes to leave, but Bucky stops him, hand on Steve's shoulder. 

"Stevie, please. I'm sorry. I don't want it to end like this." Steve just gazes at him, completely floored. Is Bucky really asking to be friends?

"No, Bucky. No. I fucking love you. And you want us to break up and then be friends? No. Not gonna fuckin' happen." Steve's hand goes to clutch his stomach. He feels like he's going to be sick. Like all the air in the room has fled and he's left standing here feeling empty. 

"Stevie. Steve. Please. I don't wanna loose you." Steve sighs and faces Bucky, completely done. There’s a gaping chasm between them that apologies can't fix.

"No, Bucky. I'm done. I'm so done. You're so fuckin' terrified of commitment that you'd push me away when I was ready to be with you forever. It's taken me so fuckin' long to love myself and I'm not going to put up with being treated like I'm not worth it. I wasted too much time on you. You were it for me. And I don't want to see you; I don't want to talk to you. Not for a while. I want you out of my life. Delete my number. Don't talk to me in class. Don't talk to my friends. Just get the fuck out of my life, okay? I'm done. We're done. Fuck you, Bucky." Steve leaves then, feeling hollow and nauseous. When he gets home, Natasha is there with tea and blankets, saying Clint had told her what happened. Steve collapses on the couch and cries.

He’d never planned on not forgiving Bucky. He just needed a bit of time to himself. Unfortunately, in the time that he was taking for himself, his Ma died. And that was when he really needed Bucky. He’d told all of his friends not to tell the brunet what had happened. They’d tried to tell him that Bucky would be supportive—that he’d stay by Steve’s side no matter how hard Steve’d tried to push him away, but Steve couldn’t bear to have that shadow of hurt following him around like a ghost. They’d pushed each other away. They’re both in the wrong.

And here he is, two months later, feeling just as empty as he did that night. Maybe even more. Steve's Ma died three days ago and he hasn't stopped crying for those three days. His eyes are still red-rimmed from it. Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Clint had ordered pizza—his friend's way of making him eat—and Steve is outside the dorm waiting for it. It's drizzling and chilly and Steve hadn't grabbed a jacket. He wraps his arms around himself and leans against the door, checking his phone for a call from the pizza guy. Nothing.

"Steve?" a voice asks from behind him. _Oh God. No._ He's not ready. He can't talk to Bucky. Not so soon after loosing his Ma. It’s only been three days. He can't deal with this. Not now.

"Hi," he replies stiffly, refusing to look at Bucky. His heart is hammering and he wishes he'd let Sam wait for the pizza.

"What're you doing out in the cold?" Bucky asks, reaching out like he's going to put his arm around Steve. And Steve wants nothing more than to melt into that warm body and stay there forever, but he can't. He won't. Bucky'd hurt him and Steve isn't going to let him off the hook because he's cold. 

"Waiting for pizza." Bucky nods, eyes wandering from Steve's eyes to his mouth and back again.

"I like your haircut," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It looks good on you." Steve'd cut his hair the days after he broke up with Bucky. Cliché, he knows, but it's just felt right. It's shaved on the left side, leaving the right side long to fall into his eyes.

"Thanks. Natasha did it." Bucky's biting his lip and Steve really wishes he'd stop doing that because it's such a fucking turn-on.

"How's your Ma?" Steve stiffens. Bucky'd tried texting him once or twice when he's heard Steve's Ma was back in the hospital, but Steve'd never read them. Never even opened them. He'd just deleted them. But now Bucky is asking and Steve is just too tired to deal with this. 

"Clint didn't tell you?" Steve looks down at his feet when Bucky comes to stand beside him. "She's gone, Buck. Three days ago." There's a silence, and then Bucky's arm is around his shoulders and Steve's letting tears flow. It feels right—being next to Bucky like this again. God knows how much Steve needs this. Not Natasha's mother hen, not Sam's therapy, and not Clint's fix-it attitude. He needs Bucky. Just to be there—a quiet force of comfort.

"I'm sorry, Stevie. I . . . I didn't know. I'm a dick and I hurt you when you needed me to be your anchor. When you needed me to be there. I'm so fuckin' sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" Steve sighs. He's tired of being mad. Tired of being hurt. Tired of being away from Bucky. He's just tired. The pizza guy pulls up in front of the building—fifteen minutes after he was supposed to be here. Apparently Bucky'd ordered pizza, too. When they get done paying, Bucky turns to Steve, expecting an answer. 

"I'm exhausted, Buck. And they're waiting for me. Can we talk about this another time?" Steve’s giving in and he hates himself for it but he needs this man. Bucky's eyebrows shoot up.

"Of course. You wanna talk later?" He looks so damn hopeful and Steve knows that he wants to make it right. So he gives in completely. His heart wants him to anyway. He's dealt with enough hurt in the last two months to allow himself this. To allow himself to be selfish. To allow Bucky a second chance. Everyone deserves at least one second chance, right? 

"You really hurt me. And don't think that I'm gonna forgive that easily. But I don't want to loose you. You were my best friend. So yeah, I'm gonna take this pizza up to them and then I'm coming to your room so we can talk." Bucky's holding back his smile as he opens the door for Steve.

"Okay. Give me ten minutes. We can share this, yeah?" the brunet asks, gesturing at the pizza in his hands.

"As long as it's meat lovers," Steve says, holding back his own smile. Bucky laughs softy and holy shit Steve's missed that sound.

"It is. You got me hooked. I'll wait for you." Those words feel like a punch to the gut and he thinks about it the way up the stairs. Bucky's going to be waiting for him.

-

After he drops the pizza off in his room, he turns and bolts to Bucky's room before they can ask what's going on. Bucky's dorm is on the second floor where Steve is on the third, so he has a flight of stairs and half a hallway to figure out what he's going to say.

He comes up with nothing.

Bucky opens the door as soon as he knocks and ushers him in, throwing a blanket at him when Steve sits on the couch. It's almost normal. Almost.

"You want coffee?" Bucky asks, gesturing at the coffee pot set up in the kitchen of his suite.

"Yeah, that'd be great." Bucky pours Steve a mug and dumps two packets of sugar in it before handing it to Steve. He still remembers how Steve takes his coffee. Good.

"Look," Bucky says, sitting on the other end of the couch, facing Steve. "I'm an idiot. And I got scared and I ran like I always do. I have abandonment issues. And that's not an excuse. That's not an excuse for hurting you. I've been going over it in my head for two months and if I would have just let myself feel . . . things would have been different. So different." Bucky gestures at the pizza while he's talking, an open invitation.

“Thank you.” Steve takes a slice and eats quietly, listening to the brunet talk.

"It's not right, what I did to you. And I don't expect to be easily forgiven. But . . . _goddamnit Steve_. I love you so fuckin' much." Steve stops eating, eyes wide and staring at Bucky who's looking straight at him. He can't process what he's hearing. "I didn't know it at the time. It took you fuckin' leaving for me to understand that what I had been feeling for months was love. Steve, I've never felt like this before. You've got to understand how scared I was. How scared I still am. I don't want to loose you. I never did. I love you, and I'm so sorry. For everything. For fuckin' up, for not being there when you needed me. For everything." Steve sets his pizza down and crawls across the couch to sit right in front of Bucky. His blue eyes are sincere, hands wringing themselves so hard it has to hurt. Steve places his hands over the brunet's, stilling their movements. 

"Say it again," he whispers, still unbelieving.

"I love you," Bucky murmurs, looking into Steve's eyes.

"Again."

"I love you. And if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of forever proving it to you." Steve groans and gives in, pressing his cold lips to Bucky's warm ones. The older man's hands cup his jaw and the back of his head, cradling Steve with what feels like tenderness and love. "I'm so sorry. Let me prove it to you." Steve pulls away and allows himself a smile.

"If I can eat this whole pizza, you've got a deal." Steve grins and Bucky lets out a startled laugh. 

"It's all yours, baby." Steve rolls his eyes and ears half of the pizza, deciding to generously share it with Bucky.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," Steve says a while later when they're stretched out and warm on the couch. Bucky's arms are around Steve's small frame, Steve's face tucked into his neck. Steve's missed this. "I can hear it in your voice. And I understand being scared. Maybe not exactly the fear you have, but I understand fear. I have enough of it myself. But . . . I want to make this work. And as long as you don't ever fuckin' do that again—" 

"I won't," Bucky promises, kissing Steve's forehead. “I swear. I’m here. ‘Till the end of the line.”

"I believe you." Steve kisses Bucky's neck softly and the older man lets out a groan. 

"I'm trying to have a cute we-just-got-back-together moment and we can't do that if you keep kissin' my neck like that." Bucky pokes him in the ribs and Steve laughs.

"You're explaining this to Nat. I'm staying out of that one." Bucky sighs happily. 

"I'd do anything for you. Even sit through the lecture of the decade from your scary adopted-sister." Bucky runs his hand through Steve's hair and Steve nuzzles in closer. "C'mon. Let's go to bed. We can talk more tomorrow, baby. You're exhausted." Bucky goes to move, but Steve grumbles sadly. "Up you get," Bucky mutters, picking Steve up. 

"Put me the fuck down!" Steve cries, smacking Bucky's chest. But the brunet just laughs and carries him into his room, laying him carefully on the bed.

"How long's it been since you slept?" Bucky lies beside him and pulls up the covers, holding Steve close. 

"You don't wanna know," Steve mumbles. He's comfortable and warm and Bucky is here and touching him and they're okay. 

"Sleep, baby. I've got you." And even though they have their problems and a long road of fixing things ahead of them, Steve believes him. He believes that Bucky's got him. And that he won't let go. That's enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same story, but from Bucky's point of view.

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows, it’s pain.

The physical pain of loosing his arm. His memories of the crash are fuzzy, but there. He remembers icy roads and a driver going too fast, hitting their car head-on. He remembers screaming at his mother. _Mom! Mom, wake up! Mom, we have to get out of here. Mom? Mom!_ He remembers pulling his sister out of the car—dragging her over broken glass and ice. He remembers the ambulance, the searing pain in his left arm. Then he remembers the numbness after waking up in a hospital bed. The phantom pains that come with an amputated limb. The physical therapy, the new arm from Stark Industries, more physical therapy. The muscle damage in the top of his shoulder.

He also knows emotional pain. Loosing his mom, bouncing around foster homes because who wants to take care of the disabled kid with abandonment issues? The ridicule he’d gone through at the hands of other kids in school. Being thrown into another foster home because he’d punched some kid in the face for sticking magnets to his arm. Foster parents that gave him strange looks, that didn’t want the other kids around him because _he’s a freak with a metal arm_. 

But Bucky has to admit that this is probably the worst. Steve saying Bucky wasn’t worth his time.

_Oh God, Steve._

They had broken up two months ago. And it was all on Bucky. Steve had been perfect—yeah, he’d been sick, but there’s nothing the little punk could have done about that. Bucky had taken care of him when he got sick, shacked up and watched movies. Made soup. Reminded him to eat and take his meds when Steve’s Ma started going downhill. Bucky’d been good at taking care of Steve.

But the one thing Bucky isn’t good at—commitment—was all Steve wanted.

Steve had told him he loves him. _Steve loves me_. At first, it made Bucky feel warm inside—being loved. But soon after, he’d started to feel cold. What if he fucked it up? What if he hurt Steve? _Oh God_ what if Steve left? What if Steve found someone better than Bucky and ran off with him, leaving Bucky behind with a broken heart? No. It was better to hurt for a few weeks and get over it than to have his heart shattered.

But Bucky realises now that it was a mistake. That he’d loved Steve for a while before Steve ever said it. He’d loved that little punk since he first saw him and then he’d gotten scared and fucked it up. He’d _hurt_ the one person in the world he’d never wanted to see hurt. He’d hurt Steve in a way that couldn’t be fixed with doctors and medications. He’d broken Steve’s heart. Steve had offered up his love and his soul and his entire being to Bucky and Bucky had carelessly thrown it away because of his own stupid fucking fear.

Bucky remembers that night. The night Steve broke up with him. It cuts like a knife every night before Bucky goes to bed. It hurts every morning when he wakes up. It aches when he sees Steve in class. It hurts all the time.

Bucky’d been brushing his teeth and worrying when Steve’d knocked. Clint—his roommate, his best friend—had let him get it, and Bucky knew what was coming. When Bucky’d opened the door, toothbrush still in his mouth, he’d opened it to a very angry Steve. But _goddamn_ was he gorgeous.

“H-hey Stevie.” Bucky can't keep his voice from shaking as he lets Steve into the room. Clint signs something at Steve and Steve signs right back. The only words Bucky picks up are _no_ and _ending_. Bucky’s heart rate kicks into overdrive as Clint leaves the room. The blond turns to Bucky with wide, hurt eyes.

“What’s going on, Bucky?” _I don’t know Stevie._ “We don’t talk anymore.” Steve looks so vulnerable right now. Bucky sighs and shuts the door, pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth.

“I just . . . I'm sorry, Steve.” He doesn’t know what else to say. What _can_ he say? The damage’s already been done. He’s already hurt him. _Maybe it’s best just to end this._

"You're sorry?” Steve asks, pissed now. Bucky doesn’t blame him. “You're _sorry_? Is that what this is? I've poured nine months of my life into you and you're _sorry_?" Oh god, Bucky can't do this. He can't take this. He feels like his heart is shattering and stabbing through his lungs, deflating his body and killing him slowly.

"I just . . . can't anymore. It got too intense too fast and I . . ." He trails off at the look in Steve’s eyes. Bucky doesn’t want to say too much. He’s terrified to explain himself. He knows he’s a coward for doing this. He knows he’s running away.

"Is it because I told you I love you?” _Yes. No. I don’t know._ “Because I do. And I can't change that. We've been dating for almost ten months. It was bound to happen." Bucky is at a loss for words. Steve is angrier than Bucky’s ever seen him. "I fucking love you, and you're _sorry_? You _can't_? Can't what? Love me?” _Oh God, baby. No._ “Be with me? Am I that fuckin’ _difficult_ to deal with? I know my health issues and my Ma are hard to deal with but . . . no. Fuck you, Bucky." Steve’s breathing hard and Bucky’s mouth is hanging open, jaw working for form words, but nothing comes out. Steve’s worked himself into an asthma attack. He hasn’t brought his inhaler. The blond turns to leave, but Bucky can't let him just walk out.

"Stevie, please. I'm sorry. I don't want it to end like this." He knows Steve will say no, but he just has to ask. He can't loose Steve. But he knows in his heart that he already has. He lost Steve weeks ago.

"No, Bucky. No.” And holy shit that hurts. “I fucking love you. And you want us to break up and then be friends? No. Not gonna fuckin' happen." _You deserve this, Bucky,_ his brain tells him. _You never did deserve Steve._ Bucky pleads one more time, hoping. _Please. I don’t wanna loose you._ But Steve is adamant, and why wouldn’t he be? Apparently all Bucky does it fuck up. He’s been told that his entire life and the _one time_ he had something truly good in his life, he’d gone and screwed it up. 

"No, Bucky. I'm done. I'm so done.” _This can't be happening. No, no, no, no, no, no._ “You're so fuckin' terrified of commitment that you'd push me away when I was ready to be with you forever. It's taken me so fuckin' long to love myself and I'm not going to put up with being treated like I'm not worth it. I wasted too much time on you. You were it for me. And I don't want to see you; I don't want to talk to you. Not for a while. I want you out of my life. Delete my number. Don't talk to me in class. Don't talk to my friends. Just get the fuck out of my life, okay? I'm done. We're done. Fuck you, Bucky." Steve turns and leaves Bucky standing in the doorway feeling sick to his stomach. He wishes his heart really would give out right now. He’d really fucked up. And he knows it might be dramatic, but he really wants to die. He’s hurt Steve. _He_ hurt Steve. _Oh God, oh God._

“You okay, buddy?” Clint asks from behind him. Bucky manages to shake his head before crumpling to the floor, back against cool wood, and letting the tears flow. Clint comes over and sits on the floor with him, hand on Bucky’s back, but otherwise silent. Bucky digs the fingers of his right hand into the scar tissue around the metal arm. It hurts— _God_ it hurts like hell—but it reminds Bucky that he’s still here. That he’s alive, that he can get through this.

“I'm sorry,” he chokes out. “I'm so fuckin’ sorry, Clint.” The other man just rubs circles into Bucky’s back soothingly. “I know you're dating Natasha. Oh, God. Please don’t leave me. Please. I'm so fuckin’ sorry.” Bucky doesn’t know if Clint can understand what he’s saying because he’s basically talking into his arm, but he seems to get it because he shoves Bucky slightly.

“I’ve stuck with you through a lot of shit, Barnes. I'm ain’t gonna leave you now.” Bucky sniffles and Clint helps him off of the floor. “You should drink some water. And then get to bed.” Clint gets him a water bottle and trails him to his room. “Things get better, Bucky. Just give him some time. Think about how you feel and if you really want this to be over. Think about how he makes you feel. And give him a few weeks, and then ask to talk if over and explain yourself. Because I know you love that kid.” Bucky nods morosely and flops on his bed. “Come get me if you need anything.” But he won't. He won't bother Clint even though the older man wouldn’t mind. He needs to be punished for what he’s done, and if that means internal torment, then that’s what he’ll get.

He feels like shit for pushing Steve away. Especially now. Why did this have to happen right now? Steve’s Ma is in really bad condition and now Bucky won't be able to be at Steve’s side through it. He won't be able to take care of Steve anymore. What if Steve forgets his medicines? What if Steve has another asthma attack? What if . . .? But no, Natasha will take care of him. And Sam. And Riley. They’ll take care of Steve. They’re better for him than Bucky ever was. That’s how Bucky falls asleep that night—tearstained and at a complete loss for what to do. 

Two months later and Bucky isn’t doing any better. Steve’s been actively avoiding him—sitting in a different desk every time they have class together, making sure they’re not in the dorm elevators together, making sure to only hand out with Clint when Bucky isn’t there. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so bad, but he has to give Steve time. He’s planning on trying to talk to him at the end of the week.

But, shit happens, and while Bucky is waiting for his pizza in the rain, Steve comes outside. Steve doesn’t see him, and after a short internal debate, Bucky speaks.

“Steve?” The blond stiffens. Bucky can see the tear tracks on his cheeks, the shaking in his artist’s hands. Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong. Bucky takes a few steps closer before coming to a halt.

“Hi,” Steve replies, spine straight as a board—or however straight a spine affected by scoliosis can be.

“What are you doing out in the cold?” Bucky can't help the worry that seeps into his voice. It’s raining and Steve shouldn’t be out here.

“Waiting for pizza.” There’s a silence where Bucky takes in Steve’s appearance.

“I like your haircut,” he says lamely. He just wants to hear Steve’s voice. He misses it. Misses everything about this punk ass kid. “It looks good on you.” Steve finally looks up at him.

“Thanks. Natasha did it.” Bucky looks down. Natasha. Holy hell, she’d given Bucky so much shit the day after he and Steve’d broken up. Bucky bites his lip, remembering. 

“How’s your Ma?” he asks, concerned. She hadn't been doing well last he’d heard. Steve freezes.

“Didn’t Clint tell you?” Steve looks down. _Clint doesn’t tell me anything about you_. But God, Steve looks like he’s going to cry. Oh god. No. “She’s gone, Buck. Three days ago.” Steve’s voice cracks and Bucky’s heart stops. Sarah’s gone? Dead? _Fuck_. _Fuck his Ma died and I wasn’t there. How could I do this to him? Shit. Shit shit._ Bucky takes the last two steps and, without thinking, throws his arms around Steve’s narrow shoulders. The blond stiffens further for a moment before relaxing into the touch and letting the tears come. Bucky just hold him, allows him to cry.

"I'm sorry, Stevie. I . . . I didn't know.” He doesn’t know what else he can say. “I'm a dick and I hurt you when you needed me to be your anchor. When you needed me to be there. I'm so fuckin' sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" Bucky desperately wants to do something, wants to make this right. He’d do anything right now. Anything at all. He’d rip out his heart and hand it to the skinny blond if it would give Steve some kind of satisfaction. He’d get on his knees and beg. He’d walk out of his life for good if it made Steve happy. But before he can say anything else, Bucky and Steve’s pizzas arrive. They pay, and then Bucky heads for the door, trying to think of something to say. He holds the door open and stands awkwardly in the lobby of the dorm. 

"I'm exhausted, Buck,” Steve answers—oh, right. Bucky’d asked him a question. “And they're waiting for me. Can we talk about this another time?" Steve wants to talk. Oh God. Bucky trips over himself trying to get the words out. 

"Of course. You wanna talk later?" He can't help the hope that seeps into his voice. He wants so badly to make this right, to do right by the skinny blond that he’s in love with. _Holy shit I'm so fuckin’ in love with this punk_. 

"You really hurt me. And don't think that I'm gonna forgive that easily.” _Of course not. I don’t expect you to. But I’ll do anything._ “But I don't want to loose you. You were my best friend. So yeah, I'm gonna take this pizza up to them and then I'm coming to your room so we can talk." Bucky tries to hide his sigh of relief, his smile of appreciation. He doesn’t want Steve to think that he takes this chance lightly.

"Okay. Give me ten minutes. We can share this, yeah?" he asks, waving a hand at the extra-large pizza in his metal hand. Steve searches his face before nodding.

"As long as it's meat lovers," Steve says, a tiny smile on his face. Bucky takes this as a victory.

"It is. You got me hooked. I'll wait for you." And then Bucky flees. His words were true, yes, but he’d hurt Steve. He doesn’t want to take anything for granted. For all Bucky knows, Steve just wants to be friends. But that’s okay. Bucky’ll take what he can get. He really will wait for Steve. Forever and a day. He’d go to hell and back for the skinny blond man with the blue eyes like the ocean.

-

When Bucky gets back to his room, he puts the pizza on the coffee table and puts music on to calm himself down. He’s working himself into a panic. Going into the bathroom, he grabs the anxiety medication his doctor’d prescribed him a month ago. His hands are shaking. Not a good sign. But he has to do this. He’ll take whatever Steve dishes out to him. The song in the background flows over him.

_I’ve got those jet pack blues_

_Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me_

_Honey, don’t you leave_

_Don’t you remember how we used to split a drink?_

_It never mattered what it was_

_I think our hands were just that close_

_The sweetness never lasted, no_

_She’s in a long black coat tonight_

_Waiting for me in the downpour outside_

_She’s singing “Baby, come home” in a melody of tears_

_While the rhythm of the rain keeps time_

But while Bucky is bracing himself against the kitchen counter trying to slow his breathing, there’s a knock at the door. Steve’s there looking gorgeous in a white t-shirt in black jeans, something Bucky hadn't noticed outside, and Bucky waves him in the door. As soon as Steve sits down, Bucky tosses a blanket at him, wanting the smaller man to be warm.

“You want coffee?” he asks, going over to the pot in the kitchen of the suite.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Steve sounds nervous. Something to hold will keep him calm, Bucky knows this. So he makes the coffee the way Steve likes it—two sugars, no cream—and hands it over before sitting on the other side of the small couch, back to the armrest—facing Steve. He takes a deep breath.

"Look," Bucky says, trying to calm the beating of his heart, but it doesn’t matter. He’s giving the thing to Steve anyway. "I'm an idiot. And I got scared and I ran like I always do. I have abandonment issues. And that's not an excuse. That's not an excuse for hurting you. I've been going over it in my head for two months and if I would have just let myself feel . . . things would have been different. So different." Steve’s looking at him intently, not eating. Bucky wants him to eat. He gestures at the pizza and Steve takes a slice.

“Thank you,” he whispers. Bucky’s afraid that if he doesn’t get all of this out now, he’s never going to say it.

"It's not right, what I did to you. And I don't expect to be easily forgiven. But . . . _goddamnit Steve_. I love you so fuckin' much." Steve stops eating, eyes wide and staring at Bucky who's looking straight at him. It almost makes Bucky unconfortable. "I didn't know it at the time. It took you fuckin' leaving for me to understand that what I had been feeling for months was love. Steve, I've never felt like this before. You've got to understand how scared I was. How scared I still am. I don't want to loose you. I never did. I love you, and I'm so sorry. For everything. For fuckin' up, for not being there when you needed me. For everything." He feels like he’s going to cry. He’s pulling at his hands hard—left hand digging in between the bones of his right. Before he knows what’s going on, Steve’s set his pizza down and crawled to Bucky’s side of the couch. Those pale hands with the slim fingers find Bucky’s own, stilling the nervous movements.

“Say it again.” Bucky takes a deep breath.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers.

“Again.”

“I love you,” Bucky says, more confidently now, looking straight into Steve’s eyes. “And if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of forever proving it to you." Steve lets out a choked noise and kisses him. Kisses Bucky. Hard. Fuck. Bucky’s hands come up to cup Steve’s face, pouring his love and desperation into the kiss. "I'm so sorry. Let me prove it to you." Steve pulls away and Bucky finds himself wanting to chase that small body.

"If I can eat this whole pizza, you've got a deal." Steve gives him a blinding smile and Bucky lets out a strangled laugh. That smile. Those eyes. This man.

"It's all yours, baby." Bucky and Steve eat for a while in silence, but it’s the good kind of quiet. They listen to the storm picking up in the background and steal glances at each other. Normal. Like it used to be.

Steve doesn’t end up eating the whole pizza. Bucky gets two slices. He’s always wondered how Steve can eat as much as he does, but he’s never going to complain. The kid needs to eat as much and fucking possible. A while later, after they’re full and warm and stretched out on the couch, Steve speaks again.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," Steve whispers, tucked into Bucky’s arms. "I can hear it in your voice. And I understand being scared. Maybe not exactly the fear you have, but I understand fear. I have enough of it myself. But . . . I want to make this work. And as long as you don't ever fuckin' do that again—" 

"I won't," Bucky promises quickly. He’s completely serious. “I swear. I’m here. ‘Till the end of the line.” He kisses the blond’s forehead.

"I believe you." Steve kisses his neck softly and Bucky lets out a low groan. 

"I'm trying to have a cute we-just-got-back-together moment and we can't do that if you keep kissin' my neck like that." Bucky tickles him and Steve lets out a giggle. It’s the best thing Bucky’s heard in weeks. 

"You're explaining this to Nat. I'm staying out of that one." Steve’s messing with him, but it still scares the shit out of him. He sighs anyway, completely blissed out with the slighter man against his body.

"I'd do anything for you. Even sit through the lecture of the decade from your scary adopted-sister." Bucky runs his hand through Steve's hair and Steve nuzzles in closer. "C'mon. Let's go to bed. We can talk more tomorrow, baby. You're exhausted." Bucky goes to get up, planning to tuck Steve into bed, but Steve grumbles sadly and refuses to move. "Up you get," Bucky mutters, picking Steve up into his arms. 

"Put me the fuck down!" Steve yells, slim smacking Bucky's chest. Bucky just laughs and carries him to bed.

"How long's it been since you slept?" he asks, climbing in beside him and pulling him close. He breathes in the scent of Steve’s shampoo and worries. He always worries about Steve, but his ma just died. It’s not easy, Bucky knows, and he wants to help however he can.

"You don't wanna know," Steve mutters. Bucky lets that go. He knows this is going to be hard, but he’s got Steve. He’s got Steve and he’s not letting go. Not ever again. 

"Sleep, baby. I've got you." Steve mumbles _I love you_ quietly, and Bucky kisses him softly, returning the words and meaning them with all his heart. They still have a lot to talk about, but they have each other and they’re okay.

 


End file.
